


This is good (this is home)

by matassie_xyx69



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Best Friends, Clay is just anxious, Driving, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Sunsets, can be read romantically or platonically, he loves his friends a lot, no beta we die like men, vaporwave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:14:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28576590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matassie_xyx69/pseuds/matassie_xyx69
Summary: But the same lingering anxiety comes to bite at him again, the same way it always does when he feels like this.What if it doesn’t last?Clay is oddly protective of this, of his friends, of having them here, with him, in his old car with the top down as he drives into the sun. It’s good, it’s peaceful, it’s home.___The Dream Team goes for a drive at sunset and Clay starts to overthink.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 108





	This is good (this is home)

They’re sitting in Clay’s dusty red 2002 Chevy convertible, the top down as he drives, almost frantically, into the setting sun. George is in his passenger seat, vibrant and blue and healthy, and Nick is sprawled out along the entirety of the back seat, arms cushioning his head and knees bent, golden and comfortable and familiar. The wind rips through the car, but Clay turns up the unsteady distorted jazz of vaporwave to block it out.

He looks at Nick in his rearview, the gentle curve of his cheeks and the relaxation written in the way he reclined. This is good. He looks at George next to him, arm resting against the body of the car and face tilted upwards, the wind teasing his feather-soft brown hair as Clay speeds towards oblivion. This is _good_.

But the same lingering anxiety comes to bite at him again, the same way it always does when he feels like this.

_What if it doesn’t last?_

Clay is oddly protective of this, of his friends, of having them here, with him, in his old car with the top down as he drives into the sun. It’s good, it’s peaceful, it’s _home_.

But the stinging clutches of the wrought-iron cage he’s built around himself over the years doesn’t fade. His knuckles turn white on the steering wheel, and he presses the accelerator a little more, ignoring the precautionary signs telling him that he should be going at least 20 miles per hour slower.

_This is good_ , he tries to tell himself again, but he already doesn’t believe it. His jaw is set. _Good things never last_ , the darkness in his mind replies, and that’s what he does believe. He’s believed it since the day he watched his father walk away for the last time, since the first time he had to go to sleep alone, since the moment he realized that whatever beauty he had in his wretched life was fading.

_Good things never last._

The words burn behind his eyes, and it’s all he can think. A thousand scenarios are already crossing his mind, images of pain and loss. He sees himself, sitting alone in the darkness of his house with his blank computer screen flickering back to darkness after George and Nick decide that he’s too broken to hang around anymore. He sees himself, staring in disbelief at the report of a plane crash on the way to England, his last words to George being something dumb and too light hearted to live with himself. He sees the broken shell of his dusty red 2002 Chevy convertible laying turned over in a ditch by the highway, all three of them gone like shooting stars in the night.

_Good things never last_.

The ocean comes into view. For one dark moment, Clay considers driving into the water, putting him and his friends to sleep in the sea where he’d never have to worry about them leaving ever again. Then he snaps out of it and presses the brake, gently slowing down his car as he turns to park on the edge of the sloping hill next to the highway.

George looks at him, and smiles.

Clay’s chest aches.

Nick is already jumping out of the car, skidding down the hill with a reckless laugh, and the darkness in Clay’s mind comes up with the image of his friend's body laying at the bottom of the hill, bloodied and mangled and unfamiliar.

He shakes his head to get the thought away.

_This is good_. He tries again, and this time a semblance of the warmth he’d felt earlier flickers through the darkness. The bars of the cage around his chest don’t feel as tight.

He climbs out of the car, George on his tail as he follows Nick down to the thin stretch of rocks and sand at the water's edge. The sun is blazing and golden as it sinks into the waves, washing everything in a honeyed hue. The contrast of the orange and the violet in the world in front of Clay feels dreamy, distorted. Something about it feels wrong, as if he’s looking at a piece of art that wasn’t quite finished, or watching a movie without an end.

George’s shoulder brushes against his arm and the feeling of wrongness dissipates slightly.

Nick grins at him and he feels tension leave his shoulders.

_This is good_. This time when it says it, it sticks.

They sit down on the shore, waiting for the moment the sun would dip below the horizon and they’d be left to drive east, back to Clay’s house, in the light of the moon. He no longer feels the sucking of the iron bars against his ribs, no longer has to shake the dark fog from his mind. Because this. This is _good_.

George’s hand brushes against his in the sand.

_Very good_.

Nick lays down with his head in Clay’s lap.

_So good_.

Clay’s life is good. And for once in what felt like thousands of years, he’s not afraid that it won’t last. Because the two people whom his world revolves around are here, with him, and it’s right. It’s home. It’s good.

“I’m not afraid,” he whispers to the setting sun.

George and Nick look at him. And they smile. And Clay knows in the very depths of his being that he’s never going to lose them.

_This is good._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little fic i wrote after drowning in vaporwave music one night  
> Kudos and comments are always greatly appreciated, feel free to tell me what you think! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and stay gold kids


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